


The Valentine's Dance

by anna_liz_fiction



Series: Sherlock VDay Challenge 2017 [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:04:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9587057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_liz_fiction/pseuds/anna_liz_fiction
Summary: This is part of the 2k17 Sherlock Vday Challenge! Check it out on tumblr.





	

Pairing: Mycroft Holmes x Reader

Words:

Writer: Anna

Warnings: None

Written while listening to: Johannes Brahms – Waltz in A Flat Op. 39 No. 15 Piano (www.youtube.com/watch?v=vDwKLN…) (Imagine the Reader and Mycroft dancing to this! It's one of my favourite piano pieces! :) ♥)

 

“You look beautiful, darling!”, complimented your father while sitting on the opposite side of the limousine. Today was the yearly Valentine's dance, held by the British Government. Every single person that had made her- or himself a name in British politics was invited to participate in this special event.

 

Your stomach had convulsed every time you thought about this celebration for the past few weeks. Even though it wasn't your first time visiting a party of that sort, you still got nervous. Attending massive social events where every single person invited tried to show off their social status had never been your thing. In the end, all those parties were just frightening.

 

The whole evening you lived in fear to make a mistake or to offend anyone talking with. Being the daughter of one of the most powerful men in Britain had never been easy. There were a lot of false persons trying to use you to get into the political upper class. It happened in your childhood as well as in the early years of adolescence before you started to know better and learned of mistakes.

 

As a consequence, you gained a general mistrust of people, which was the reason why you practically had never dated seriously. Every time when a relationship was close to getting serious, doubts about the guy's true intentions started coming up. And after the suspicions were seated in your mind, there was no chance of trusting him.

 

Silently you stared out of the window, watching the inner city of London flying by. After some time it all blurred into a mixture of lights and buildings. Being completely in thought, you haven't even noticed, that the limousine started to drive up the gateway of an impressive manor where this year's Valentine's dance was held.

 

As soon as the driver stopped the car he hurried around to help your mother out of the vehicle, but father, being the gentleman he is, was faster. Being alone in the car for a short moment, you took a second to check if the beautifully done make up on your face was still flawless.

“(Y/N), dear. It's time”, your father's voice summoned while holding out his hand towards you, to get out of the car. Thankfully you took it because walking without tripping over the evening gown was quite a challenge. Even though the dress was beautiful, you rather would have worn something more comfortable. And the almost to the waist reaching neckline did nothing to diminish the nervousness.

 

As soon as you stood safely on the heels, your father lets go to escort his wife the stairs up into the manor. Before following them you took in the amazing scene. The whole gateway was lighted with lanterns which were placed in the trees that formed the alley, where every car had to drive through to get to the mansion. The building itself was beautifully lit in a warm light, which gave it an inviting appeal. Every few moments cars were arriving and ever more people in their evening dresses were walking up the stairs.

 

After a few moments just looking at the magnificent garden you decided to join your family inside. Slowly taking one step after another you made your way up to the entrance where even more people were standing. Your heart beating irregularly and hand palms getting sweaty, you stepped on the red carpet rolled out on the ground.

 

Still paying extreme attention to walking it took you much longer to get into the building, than if you would have walked as confident on those high heels as some other women at the party did.

Moving through old corridors with tall ceilings you tried to find the way into the ballroom. Admiring the paintings hanging on the walls, you kept on walking and stopped paying attention to surroundings.

 

That was the moment when it happened. Completely enchanted by the art you didn't watch your feet and got tangled up in the skirt of your dress. With flying arms you fell on the knees, hearing some muffled and spiteful laughter from behind. As fast as you could, you stood up, smoothing the wrinkles in the gown.

 

You felt the blood rushing into your cheeks and started to rush to the ballroom, caring no more about doing a mistake, because you already made a fool out of yourself.

 

'I need a drink.'

 

With this thought in mind, you organized the priorities for this evening.

Finding a bar, drinking the shame away, trying to have a good time.

But as soon as you stepped into the ballroom, you had to withdraw the last task on the list. On the other end of the room was standing Henry.

 

At his sight, memories came flooding back into awareness, which you had managed to suppress until this moment. He was one of the few men you had actually loved, only to find out later that he was playing you the whole time. Your heart was aching at the remembrance of him. Nobody before had ever managed to break you like Henry did.

 

A sudden hand on the shoulder pulled you back into reality. The touch was gentle and soon identified as your fathers.

“I didn't know, Henry was going to be here, (Y/N)”, he said quietly.

In his eyes laid a certain kind of pain, knowing what this man did to his precious daughter.

 

“It's alright, Dad,” trying to take the burden of your father's chest, “everything is fine.”

Those words were all lies and in your ears, they also sounded like ones, but your father's eyes seemed to loose a bit of sadness, after saying them.

“I'm getting myself a drink. Do you and mom need anything?”, you asked.

“We're fine, thank you, (Y/N).”

 

Not wanting to talk anymore, you turned around and making your way through groups of guests. Sometimes you felt their stares in the back, but trying to be confident you just kept on walking, chin raised a bit higher.

 

But your new found confidence lasted just a couple of moments because then you met some familiar brown eyes. Stiffening at Henry's gaze you didn't know what to do. While everybody muscle told you to run, Henry started walking towards you. And with that motion, every emotion inside was sent into total chaos.

 

“Hello, (Y/N). Long time no see”, Henry greeted you.

He was wearing a black tuxedo, his ash blonde hair gelled back on his head. Automatically you leaned away from him, not wanting to be near this person.

“I was wondering if we would ever meet again. How are you?”

 

“Good, thank you.”

Maybe if you would answer as short as possible, he would loose his fun in torturing you.

Just don't provide Henry with a target, (Y/N).

“You know, I really have to go! We can catch up some other time, Henry”, you started, desperate to find a way out of this situation. As you were about to back away, he grabbed your wrist.

“Not so fast, (Y/N).”

Just feeling his touch on naked skin made you feel like throwing up. His grip was tight and he didn't make an impression to let go anytime soon.

“You know, as we broke up, you destroyed everything I worked for, (Y/N). Your father”, as he mentioned him, Henry broke eye contact to look at your father who was currently talking to the Prime Minister, “ruined my career. Do you even know, what I had to do to get invited to an event like this?”

His grip got even tighter and you were scared that he would break your wrist.

 

No one around the both of you seemed to take notice of the scene, which was taking place right in the middle of the grand ballroom. Just when it seemed that nobody would be helping you, a tall man planted himself beside you, staring down at Henry with angry eyes.

“If you don't let the lady go in a second, you will be dragged out by security.”

 

The man looked familiar, but even though you tried really hard to remember, you just couldn't get a grasp at the memory.

Henry let go of your wrist, on which his fingerprints were visible. He even had pressed his fingernails into your tender skin.

“We will see each other again, (Y/N).”

“I don't think so”, your savior answered for you and then two men in black suits appeared out of the crowd, escorting Henry out of the ballroom.

 

Absolutely taken aback by the astonishing rescue by the familiar stranger you were speechless. Even more, as he took his hand in his to examine it.

“Are you hurt?”, he asked you, his grey eyes locked with your (Y/E/C) ones.

“I-,” your voice broke, “I think so.”

“Good.”

 

And suddenly you remembered where you knew him from. A few months back he was at father's office at home. Both of them had talked for hours and nobody, not even your mother, seemed to know what it was about.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes. For … helping me out”, you whispered with a shy smile on the lips.

“You are very welcome. Please call me Mycroft.”

Your own heart started to beat a little faster, as he offered to use his first name.

The two of you kept staring at each other until he remembered that he still held your injured hand in his own. Carefully not to touch the sore wrist, he let go.

 

Right at that moment, the pianist started to play on of your favourite pieces. And even though you had never really felt the desire to dance with somebody to that song, you certainly did now.

There was something about him …

 

“Would you like to dance with me, Mycroft?”

Your request has seemingly startled him because he looked down at you with surprise written all over his face, which brought you back to reality. Being so caught up in the magical feeling, you didn't bother to think about the fact, that he as well could also decline your offer.

Feeling your cheeks redden, you broke the eye contact, looking down at the floor.

 

“I would love to.”

 

With that Mycroft took your hand in his, paying attention not to pick the injured one, and pulled you onto the dance floor. The pianist was still playing, as the both of you started dancing together. Mycroft's hand was placed on your waist, holding you close to him, while dancing.

 

And then, because you felt so comfortable with him, a sentence slipped out of your lips, the real meaning only later occurring to you:

“I guess this makes you my Valentine of some sort, doesn't it?”


End file.
